The Way Blood Flows
by Purplehood
Summary: No one should assume he is safe. No one should believe he is untouchable, invincible or immortal. Nothing is unbreakable...unless your hope is immensely strong.


**A/N: This is just something I wrote because it was on my mind and all. I guess this could be considered a One Shot, but please be aware that there is a bigger story behind this scene. If anyone really likes it, I might write the whole story...so tell me what you think.**

With a final blow to the side, his prey fell to the floor, gasping for air. A long crooked grin spread across the skull-like face of the hunter. There was nothing more pleasing to him than being victorious over a worthy opponent. The latter was sprawled out, clutching his side tightly as his chest heaved up and down in quick shaky, pain-filled breaths. The widened eyes seemed fixed in a life-or-death stare into the distance, stunned enough in pain to have seemingly forgotten to stay alert to the looming, dark figure. It was an interesting spectacle to watch for Khyber.

The hunter allowed his wounded adversary to roll over on its less injured side. Blood from the wound seeped through the black fabric, slowly beginning to overwhelm the trembling hands wrapped tightly around. Narrow rivers of blood trickled through the spaces between each finger. The wounded uttered no sound save the pain-driven gasps he was forced to take.

The hunter would have been all the more happy if this felled creature in front of him was the main game. As it was, this was secondary, though the taste of revenge would be sweet. He could end the miserable life of this Plumber in an instant, and he would enjoy it. This thing that dared to foil so many plans of the past, dared to lock him up, dared to have been a match for Khyber the Huntsman! Yes, he would pay in time; he would be dealt with accordingly, but not yet. There were important things to attend to; plans to be put into action, and this young Plumber had just gained a main roll.

Khyber took a step towards the Plumber, his shadow looming over. The eyes of the Plumber snapped back to attention, glaring back at the hunter. Khyber smiled again.

"Now that I have your attention, my young friend, I would like to inquire about your partner, Ben Tennyson. Where is he?" Khyber demanded in his cold, smooth voice. It was threat in disguise, and it made the Ravonnahan figure stiffen as a shaky hiss-like breath escaped his throat. He clenched his teeth in a mix of pain and determination but remained silent.

Khyber let out a mocking chuckle. He thrust his hand down and latched around the Plumber's neck.

The Ravonnahgander gagged and gasped in pain, but he was too weak to object as the hunter heaved him off the floor. His side burned from the sudden jolt. Khyber held him in the air an arm-length away.

"I believe I asked you a question, Ravonnahgander," Khyber hissed in a louder voice, drawing the Plumber closer until their eyes were forced into a venomous stare. "I think you should answer it."

The young Plumber struggled to keep from crying out in agony. His throat was so dry he could hardly breathe. He fixed his eyes on the zig-zag mouth on the green-skinned face of his enemy. Disgust almost overwhelmed him.

"ANSWER ME!" the hunter roared. He shook the Plumber in his frustration. The young Plumber yelped and steadied himself with both hands gripping onto Khyber's. It took all his strength to summon the words he wished to say.

"I—do not be—b—betray my friends—sp—ecially to someone like you," he whispered between gasps as he stared into the fiery red eyes. His voice, though weak and impaired, was perfectly audible. Pain was not going win. He was determined not to give this enemy the satisfaction he wanted. He was not going to betray his partner. He was not giving up yet.

Khyber's face twisted in anger. The cold skeletal fingers tightened their grip around the Plumber's neck as the huntsman leaned in even closer to his choking prey.

"You're very bold, Rook," he hissed in a voice dangerously soft. "But it would be better for you to simply answer the question." Rook coughed and choked until blood began to bubble out and drip down the sides of his mouth. His throat felt like it was on fire.

One hand was plastered to his side, the wound pulsing-pounding against it. The other was clinging to Khyber's long fingers, desperately trying to pry them loose from his neck, or to a least to keep them from strangling him.

The hunter growled. "That is not going to help you, Plumber," he spat.


End file.
